


Wildest Dreams

by tac_winchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Insecurity, Photographs, polaroid pictures, vintage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2792318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tac_winchester/pseuds/tac_winchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's girlfriend has quite a passion for vintage items and technology, but doesn't really like to admit it. She believes that Sam won't like her for it, yet when the time comes, she is surprised. </p><p>(Crappy summary, I know. But I really do think this is a good story.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wildest Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "Wildest Dreams" by Taylor Swift

I had bought the bulky Polaroid camera at a flea market next to an investigation Sam and I were working at. We wandered over to the shabby mill just for kicks when we passed this vintage stand. I had a sweet tooth when it came to older things such as music and technology. Sam didn’t know this too much at the time, so I told him to wait for me by a stand that sold knives.  
I remember walking up to that stand feeling both anxious and excited. The camera sat on top of a small box labeled “film”. Immediately, I knew I just had to have it. There was a sample picture beside the box to show how well the camera worked. In that Polaroid, a young couple smiled at the lense while standing in front of a lake. The man sitting in a chair stood up and grabbed his cane before hobbling over to me. “Are you interested in my camera?” he asked.  
“Yes, sir,” I answered and glanced at the knife stand in my peripheral vision. The old man smiled in front of me.  
“That’ll be ten dollars for the camera and films,” he’d told me. I’d expected it to be twenty at least, but happily dug out a ten-dollar bill from my back pocket. The man took it and opened the money box. My bill slipped under the silver bar keeping the money down, and it felt like the best purchase I’d ever made. I was then handed a yellow plastic bag with my camera and films inside. The man kept the aged Polaroid and let out a small grin at the sight of it. Before I left, the man called for my attention again. “Have fun with the camera! Lock up as many memories as you can,” he advised. I smiled back at him and waved before finding Sam again.  
The first time I showed Sam the camera was the day after I’d bought it. The yellow plastic bag sat in my duffel and was hard to hide under my minimal amount of clothes. Dean had spotted the sliver of yellow sticking out when we stopped at a gas station and asked what it was. I blushed as I carefully slipped the bag out of my duffel and placed it into my lap. Dean let out a low whistle at the dinosaur of a camera. I set the box of films aside and crumpled up the plastic bag.  
“Now that’s ancient,” Dean teased. I rolled my eyes and opened up the bag again, flicking it once to give it more air. The box went inside the bag first before the camera.  
As I began to make room for the camera in my duffel, Sam twisted around in the front seat. “Hey, why’d you buy that?” he questioned.  
“I’m just quite the vintage buff,” I admitted.  
Instead of laughing or joking around like I thought he might, Sam only smiled. That one gesture lightened up the atmosphere and warmed my insides. I was always insecure about my obsession with items from before I was born. When I first met Sam, I was the one who drove us to our first coffee date and at the time I hadn’t known he’d been with his brother everywhere in a 1967 Impala. Because of this, I chose the newest car I had out of my small collection of three vehicles. That would be a maroon 1971 Cougar XR7. She’s quite the beauty, but I don’t drive her as much as my cherry red 1965 Mustang Fastback. I’ve been riding in the Impala - or Baby as Dean calls her - for so long I haven’t been able to take any of my honeys out. But when Sam had seen my Cougar, he was rather impressed. We rode along listening to my eight track of Aerosmith while chatting about current events. That was only the beginning of chipping into my affection. He met my Mustang months later after we’d been hunting in the Impala. I couldn’t hold myself back when we got back to Kansas and they dropped me off at my house for me to settle in. The next day I took the hour drive in my Honey, and I listened to her low growl the whole way there. Dean had been checking under the Impala’s hood when I arrived and let out a whistle at her shine. Giving me attention is one thing, but when my Honey gets attention it’s a whole different kind of pride.  
I grinned back at Sam as he told me, “There’s no need to hide your passion, babe. I love you for all your quirks, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.” My cheeks flushed pink and I pressed a kiss into his cheek. The shine of my red lipstick wasn’t really noticeable when I pulled away, but it wouldn’t be hard to find either. He only shook his head fondly as Dean slid back into the Impala.  
On our drive back to the bunker, we stopped by a field on a leisure road as the clouds were being painted orange with the sun’s elongating rays being the paintbrushes. A stone wall separated the hay field from the road but broke off at the end for tractors to enter. I walked over to the stone wall and sat cross-legged upon the largest stone. The bright sun gave my face a masking glow and I basked in the pleasure.  
Behind me, I heard Dean getting out the cooler from the trunk. Sam was with him as well, but I didn’t turn around to see what he was doing. I listened closely to confused mumbles until Sam blurted out, “I got it!” My eyebrows furrowed, but I focused on the sound of Sam’s boots hitting the pavement as he approached me. I relaxed more when I felt his presence beside me. “Smile!” he cheered and I did so. A flash from my right caused me to whip my head towards him. The white border of a Polaroid came into view and soon a whole picture hung out of the camera.  
I plucked the Polaroid from the camera and smiled at Sam. He watched happily as I wiggled the photo around while waiting for it to develop. Sam set the camera on the wall behind him and glanced down at the Polaroid while the picture came into view. You could clearly see my face highlighted by the yellow glow of the sunset. My red lips stood out in contrast to my yellowed skin and seemingly golden hair. Behind me, you could see the orange and pink clouds of the sunset.  
Sam leaned down to press his lips to my forehead and my eyelids fluttered shut. A click came from behind us as his lips slowly retreated from my skin. Dean held the camera in one hand and a developing Polaroid in the other. Sam snorted and took the picture from Dean. We both got drinks from the cooler while the picture developed and sat on the wall together.  
The three of us grew an accumulation of Polaroids that night which are bound by a hair band in my duffel bag. I’d flip through them those lonely nights in hotel rooms when the brothers had been asleep for hours and I was still awake. That first photo of myself always drew in my attention. I looked so peaceful, when in fact I had just gotten out of a nasty hunt in South Carolina. And I pictured that was how Sam always saw me. I am a source of comfort for him as he is for me.  
One night, Sam had caught me browsing through the pictures. He woke up at midnight while I was still awake and hadn’t even bothered to wipe off my lipstick yet. “Babe, what are you doing awake?” he whispered in the blue night. The moonlight from the window beside him framed his muscular body and tousled hair.  
“Just looking at those pictures from last month in South Carolina,” I murmured. The moon permitted enough light to see the figures of my favorite picture. Sam shifted so that he was leaning on the headboard beside me.  
I could see the outline of his thin lips smile in the dimness of the room. “You look so beautiful in this picture,” he remarked. I grinned and nodded with him.  
Silence fell upon us as we both gazed at that first picture taken. The photograph had been bent from the hair tie but the quality remained evident. “Remember me this way, Sam,” I whispered. He only nodded as I laid my head on his broad chest. And just like my feelings for Sam, I fell asleep slowly and then all at once.


End file.
